Welcome to this week’s installment of many micro stories, ranging in length from 100 words to 500 words.
With each story we hope to deliver a little whimsy into the lives of our readers.
THEY LIVED IN THE GARDEN NOW
When he died, Father had two requests. The twins, Weylan and Jalan, were well into their thirties by that time. They were both single (though there was that one time when Weylan was almost engaged, and that other time when Jalan almost ran off with Louisa Faring), so no one was waiting for them or a share of the estate.
Instead, they hovered over his bed and watched him expire. His brown skin turned ashen, but Weylan still rubbed petroleum jelly on his lips and cheeks. She pomaded his hair and chose his clothing; a zoot suit, his favorite wingtip shoes, his jazz tie. After they buried him, they began to argue about his demands.
The requests were simple:
- Never open the shed out back.
- Take care of the house and each other.
Weylan was fine with the first, but not the second. Jalan was against the first, but fine with the second.
“Stay away from that damn shed.” Weylan, genteel and willowy, snapped at her sister. Her accent was contrast to her looks: thick vernacular, somewhat diaspora, somewhat Southern. Jalan, short, curvy, and dark, ignored her sister’s order and hummed to herself as she dug through a drawer in the kitchen.
“No.” Jalan’s voice was clipped and neat. Jalan smiled up at her sister, her face was an exact copy of Weylan’s. Even though the twins were different shades, one light brown, the other deep earth, they were still identical.
Weylan ran her fingers through her short hair and glared at Jalan. “He only had two requests, Jay.”
“Honestly, it was three.” Jalan ticked off her fingers. “One, never open the shed, which I agreed to to appease the old coot. Two, take care of the house, which I do. And three, take care of each other, which we do.”
Weylan shrugged and counted off on her own fingers. “I’m not cleaning the house. I love you and will always look out for you, but you don’t listen, but I’m going to say it anyway: Leave. The. Shed. Alone.”
“You know he locked somethin’ up in there.” Jalan moved to another drawer. “Just gotta find the keys to open those damned locks.”
“It’s probably something dangerous.” Weylan grumbled. “Remember the goblins!”
“Remember the goblins.” Jalan snarked and rolled her eyes. “You already know.” And Weylan did know. Jalan was away at military school the summer Weylan opened the shed and accidentally freed a troupe of goblins their father had been keeping locked away. Neither of them had ever gotten over it, Weylan for the experience, Jalan for missing out on the chaos.
“I’ve never seen a goblin.” Jalan said into the quiet.
“You don’t need to see one.” Weylan replied.
“But I do.” Jalan said. She held up a ring of keys in triumph. “And I will.”
“C’mon.” Jalan’s brown eyes twinkled. “Aren’t you just a little bit curious?”
Weylan frowned, but she didn’t stop her sister when she went to open the locks.
When she is not wearing one of her many hats, Azure Arther is channeling her inner dryad by creatively spiraling out of control and dancing with words that whisper. You can find her at azurearther.com.
If you enjoyed this story you can find it and more in the Hawthorn & Ash 2023 anthology.
Iron Faerie Publishing 